


Worlds Apart

by misura



Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three universes where Shawn and Lassiter were never a couple and one where they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worlds Apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BonesOfBirdWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesOfBirdWings/gifts).



.01

"A Jedi," Lassiter said, flatly - he'd heard a lot of ridiculous (and he did mean _ridiculous_ ) stories in his time, but this one took the cake. "Shouldn't you be - oh, I don't know, at the Jedi Temple or something? I can give you directions, if you're lost," he offered. "I mean, you people must be busy saving the galaxy from, well, all sorts of dark and evil beings, so clearly, you can't be expected to also manage to remember where you live."

Vick shot him a look from where she was interviewing what was probably a completely normal (which was to say relatively sane) witness with suspect potential. Some sort of pharmaceutical rep, apparently; Lassiter had seized on his current conversational partner as the more interesting subject to question, so now here he was. A Jedi.

"Well, I don't really go in for that whole make-your-own-light-saber, preserve-the-balance-of-the-universe type of thing," the guy who was definitely _not_ a Jedi said. He'd given his name as Shawn Spencer, which was also obviously a fake.

"I wondered about that," Lassiter said. "So you're - what?"

"Passing by and figuring I might save you guys some time by pointing out who the killer is." 'Shawn' shrugged. "Don't mind me, officer; just doing my civic duty."

"Mind?" Lassiter asked. "Oh, not at all. We're always delighted when suspects simply walk up to us and turn themselves in. You're under arrest."

'Shawn' sighed, then gestured. "I am _not_ the suspect you are looking for."

Lassiter frowned, opened his mouth to point out that actually, he _was_ , then wondered who 'he' was and what he was doing talking to himself when there was a murder investigation to run.

 

.02

_Of all the people in the world to get stuck with._ "Look," Lassiter said, "I'll explain it to you one more time."

The densest person in the world held up his hand. "You're a ghost," he said. "You killed yourself after losing a game of checkers. You're haunting this checkers board my greataunt Priscilla gave me."

"I didn't _lose_. He _cheated_. He was a _cheater_." Lassiter forced his temper down and tried to think happy thoughts. _Shooting people. Think about shooting people._ "Anyway, bygones. Right now, I'm here for _you_."

"To teach me how to play checkers," Spencer said. "Seriously? Some guy drives you to kill yourself and you tell yourself, 'oh hey, you know what, I'll have my revenge by offing myself, and then haunt a checkers board to teach others about this wonderful fun game that drove me to suicide'? Are you an idiot?"

"Checkers is a great game," Lassiter said. "No luck, just skill. It takes years to master."

Spencer shook his head. "Sorry, pal, not interested. Assuming I even believed you, which I don't, why would I want to waste time on something like that? I've got a job, I've got a family - I don't have time for some ghost with a sob story."

Lassiter thought some more about shooting people and, when that didn't work (or rather: it worked _fantastically well_ so long as he imagined Spencer as the person he was shooting) he counted to one-hundred very slowly.

"Tell you what though," Spencer said. "You keep my son busy for a whole afternoon, maybe we can work something out."

 

.03

"I must say," Shawn said, "you're taking this whole 'I'm an Eldritch horror risen from the depths who's going to suck out humanity's soul by a really large straw' thing very well."

"I do?" Lassiter asked. He'd been on his fifth drink of the evening when Shawn had walked in, meaning his total was at about ten by now. "I mean, am I?"

Shawn shrugged and poured himself a drink. "Gotta confess, I was expecting a bit more gibbering."

"Oh, I'm gibbering," said Lassiter. "Trust me." He did, too, but it was a distant, lurking thing.

"Keeping it all inside, huh?" Shawn said cheerfully. He was still wearing his leather jacket - the one Lassiter had found at the beach, torn. It wasn't torn anymore. "Tried that for a while. Didn't work."

"Just ... " Lassiter said. " _Why?_ Why even pretend?"

Shawn shrugged again. "Boredom, mostly. I mean, this whole she-bang - there's a lot of waiting, you know? I just figured that if I wasn't going to be able to slumber, I might as well do something useful and mildly entertaining. Mostly your own fault, really," he went on. "Not you personally, I mean; simply humans in general. Planet isn't as quiet and slumber-y - slumber-ish? as it used to be."

" 'Something useful and mildly entertaining,' " Lassiter echoed. He wondered if he ought to feel insulted, and then he wondered what would happen if he took a swing at Shawn Spencer, Eldritch horror risen from the sea, and then, finally, he wondered what the point of any of it was, really.

"Don't think there is one, really," Shawn said. "Just my personal belief, mind."

"You're pretending to be a psychic, not a telepath," Lassiter snapped. "Stay in character, will you? At least until you do whatever it is you're so hell-bent on doing. Ending the world and all that stuff."

"Figured I'd give it another twenty years or so. Thirty, if you planned on getting old," Shawn said.

"That's messed up," Lassiter said. "Worse, it's just plain _wrong_. Listen to me, you got a job, it's your duty - your _duty_ , to do it and to do it well."

"All right," said Shawn. "Fine. That's how you want things to go down?"

"What I _want_ ," Lassiter said, "is another goddamn drink and for you to go back to being just a regular, highly annoying but basically human pain in the ass."

"How about I get you one out of those two things?"

 

.01

"Seriously? _That_ 's what you're wearing to our 'Surprise! We Know You Got Drunk-Married in Vegas' party?"

"I wasn't drunk," Lassiter said. Irresponsible people got drunk-married in Vegas, often to people they didn't really know all that well, followed by days upon days of so-called 'hilarious hijinks' after which, eventually, they would discover that what do you know, they loved each other after all.

And it only happened in movies O'Hara was fond of watching, for no reason Lassiter could think of.

"I wasn't drunk either," Shawn said. "That's not my point. My point is: that's a horrible tie."

_What's wrong with it?_ would be a stupid question to ask. "Tough," he said instead. "Let's go."

"Quick, show me your surprised face," Shawn said. "I practiced mine all morning - look!"

Lassiter scowled.

"All right, fine, I only practiced it for, like, five minutes," Shawn said. "By the way, how'd _you_ find out about the surprise party?"

"I'm a detective, Spencer," Lassiter said. "It's my job to figure stuff out, and I happen to be very good at it. I suppose you expect me to believe you found out through your quote unquote psychic powers?"

"Actually, I just happen to be a pretty good detective, too."


End file.
